All That I Was or Ever Shall Be
by smileypv
Summary: What happens when immortality comes because of a crime? How does one reconcile that new life when the old one was so cruelly interrupted? She awakens to a new life, but cannot embrace it until she finds out what happened to her old one. You won't believe the end of this one! I don't own these characters, but I like playing in their world. Thanks, Stephenie Meyer
1. Awake

My fingers fluttered. At least, I think they did. I've read about people who have lost limbs and they experience sensation, even pain, in their missing parts. I can only guess that is what's happening here.

What preceded that flutter was the most intense burning pain. I know I had to have screamed and screamed because I can't imagine that anyone could stay silent through something like that. All I can think is that he must have set me on fire. The man who attacked me. All of it feels hazy, muddy even, unreal. All that seems real is this, the slight movement of my fingers, the feel of the still air on my skin. I test my eyelids to see if I can open them.

The stars in the sky seem endless and the clarity is that of being away from city lights. I feel my brows knit together as I realize that I see so many more stars than I ever thought possible and I wonder if it is ever night in heaven. I had never thought about it before. I must be dead, right? Pain like that is just weakness leaving the mortal body. I am dead and this is what it's like to be in heaven.

But my fingers touch dry leaves and I smell something sweet off to my right. I hear movement to that same side and panic clutches at me. Before I can register or even contemplate what it is, I am on my feet and look straight into the eyes of a man sitting on a log.

In the fraction of a second that must have taken, my conscious mind is incredulous at the fact that a movement so sudden should have made me feel dizzy, especially after lying on the ground for so long. I'm not, though, and my body is straight and tensed, as if ready for fight or flight. As I look at the man, I realize that he is not my attacker. He looks tall and slight, with short hair and a slight smile on his face. I even see the auburn glint of his hair, though I knew I shouldn't with so little light. Starlight shouldn't make it this easy to see him.

"You're awake," he observes, seeming to be amused by my confusion. "It's about time. I was starting to worry about you."

I look closely at him, taking in his appearance. He is wearing jeans and a leather jacket, with a button-up shirt and t-shirt peeking out. He looks familiar, disconcertingly so, but I can't place him. My mind flits between my last memories and now, trying to remember who this guy was, where I was, and how I had gotten here.

"Who are you?" I ask and the sound of my voice disturbs me. Should it be this clear after all of the screaming I must have done. "Where am I?"

He stands and walks toward me, holding out his hand as if to shake mine. I just look at him, at his hand, and shake my head. There was no way I was moving out of this defensive position. Everything in my body said "Danger!" and, without any other information to help me, I had to listen to instinct. He pulls his hand away and backs away, hands up, as if understanding my hesitation.

"My name is Paul. We are outside of the city, in the most rural area I could find. I needed to get you away from people for the moment."

"Why? What happened to me? What do you know?" Could I trust him to tell me anything? I guess I could listen to his answers and then decide what was next. If all else fails, I could run, right?

"You were attacked. I found you bleeding and picked you up and brought you here. I saved you."

"You saved me?" my brows knit together again and I looked over my body. Again, the muddiness returned as I tried to remember what had happened to me before this. I closed my eyes, allowing my hearing and smell to keep a watch on the stranger.

_I walked home as usual. I left the library and headed toward the parking lot, keys in hand, walking quickly like I always did. I knew that a student had been assaulted near the brushy area I passed recently, but it seemed like an isolated incident. All I could think about was getting him to my husband and the kids, even though I knew they would be in bed. Off to my left, I see the movement of a shadow, like an object in front of a light, and my breath speeds. Do I run for the car and hope that I don't attract attention or do I keep walking at this pace so that I don't seem so panicked? Before I could decide, two arms grab me and push me down into a clump of trees. I feel a punch across my face and near my ear, both stunning me. Then I feel my body being dragged. Clothes ripped._

Panic closes my throat and I feel a sob rise from my belly. I grit my teeth as I feel my nose and cheekbones, expecting to find some sort of damage, swelling or blood. My hand comes away with nothing. The sobs continue, but I feel no wetness on my skin. I look at my hands in the starlight and notice that my clothes are different, that my skin, which I had remembered being scratched and bloody, was clean and pure white.

I look up at Paul and see the same pure white in his face and hands. I see the whites of his eyes with the same clarity that only daylight should bring. I see something in his irises that clinches at my heart and sends my body yet again in to defensive mode.

His irises are red, blood red.

And I scream.


	2. Hunger

"What have you done to me?" I scream at him so full of anger and fear that even the fight or flight instinct can't decide what to do. Part of me wants to run and never look back, not even to find out what had happened. But deep inside me lays another desire, this one much stronger with no other description than red. I could feel it in my body, the redness of this, the desire to rip and tear and fight. I had never felt like this before, not even when I was being attacked. Then I just wanted to flee, no time for anger because all I knew was pain and fear. Now, though, I just want to rip this man's head off and ask questions later, even though my rational mind knew there would be no one to ask questions of at that point.

"I can explain. Please just give me a moment to tell you what I know." Paul holds his hands up in a gesture of apology and then sits down on the log he had been perched on earlier. He looks at me again, his smile hidden beneath his hands as he regards me. "My God, you are magnificent. I can't wait to see how this life will suit you." I signal to him to speed it up and he continues. "You were attacked, which I'm sure you remember, and I found you bleeding on the ground. Actually I smelled the blood and wanted to find out what was going on. It's not often I find beautiful women bleeding on the ground."

I roll my eyes at him. "I was lying on the ground, bleeding, probably raped and you…smelled the blood?"

"Yes, blood has a scent. Haven't you ever noticed? Though now I'm sure you will notice it much more than you could ever have as a human. I didn't see your attacker so I don't know who that was. Whoever did that to you was long gone by the time I got there. But I saw you lying there and heard you crying. Your blood was everywhere. I think you were stabbed. I recognized you and I just couldn't let you die."

"Why didn't you take me to an emergency room? Call the police or an ambulance or something? Why am I here and not in a hospital?"

He looked me square on, pointed but apologetic. "You wouldn't have survived that. You were dying right there in front of me. Believe me, I know what that sounds and smells like."

"You saved me? How did you save me?"

"I bit you. I injected my venom into you. I brought you here to let you change in peace. And now you are standing in front of me because of it."

Bit me? The smell of blood? Venom, red eyes, pale skin. I put the pieces together slowly, allowing my mind to contemplate. _No. No way! There is no way._ Many nights of watching _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ with my cousin came to mind. Impossible. Impossible

"NO!" I scream at him again. "NO! It's not possible." And I run. I watch the trees around me fly by, but I see every leaf, every drop of water, every squirrel and bird. How could this be? How could I do all of this? There has to be some sort of explanation other than the one I am thinking. Adrenaline? Had I been injected with something that gave me enhanced capabilities?

_What the hell am I thinking? _Fairy tales and horror stories whirl in my mind. Like most adults, I had found it harder and harder to suspend belief as I grew older. Magic and supernatural creatures were all products of minds much older than mine, populations that explained away phenomena with tales of the supernatural because science had not yet evolved enough to help them understand what was really happening. But Paul's red eyes give me doubt. My skin, the way that the world looks, feels, smells to me now, it all seems to brim with the potential of revealing something to me that I cannot believe. Not yet.

Then something brings me up short, an unconscious move. Visually, nothing has changed. I still see the forest with the same clarity even though I knew my mind and my eyes were moving faster than I ever had before. My breath didn't signal any exertion, but had triggered this stop. I smell something delicious. When human memories try to remind me of favorite meals, my nose wrinkles and instead focuses on something warm and wet. I smell it now, hearing the moist breath and thudding heartbeat. My throat..

It is only when the buck is still that I realize what I have done. I look down at it, my hands reaching up to my face to come away covered in blood. _Did I do that? DID I DO THAT? _I am incredulous, but some small part of me is also triumphant. I wipe my mouth with my hands, each time smearing more and more blood. I look down at my clothes to see where I can wipe off the redness, but I realize I have no idea whose clothes these are or where they came from. The jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket are all a bit oversized, but feel clean at least. I can't wipe my hands on them so I reach for the buck and do it there, realizing that no one will ever care that I've done this. That thought makes me laugh a little. And seeing and smelling the blood reminds my body that this thirst is not yet slaked. Though I am consciously repulsed by the sight of the animal in front of me, my instincts push me toward another thudding heart.

When I am on my fourth kill, an injured bear that I had happened upon while I was running, I hear the distant ruffling of leaves and limbs and then smell Paul's sweet scent. He emerges right when I begin to drink; the hiss that comes from my mouth surprises me. He laughs, which elicits a growl from me, and then leaps high up into the trees to elude any strike I might send in his direction. When I finish the bear, he is still chuckling and I hiss at him again.

"Why are you laughing at me?"

"You should see yourself. It's clear you are a newborn."

"I don't have a mirror and I doubt the forest here has any handy."

He leaps down from the trees when he sees that I am sufficiently distracted. "We are close to the highway. I'm sure we can find a gas station nearby." He starts to run away from me, no doubt guiding me to the highway as I start to hear the whoosh of passing cars. I follow his scent and then find him standing next to a restroom door that he has ripped off.

"No need for a key when you are a vampire."

_Vampire?_ My mind reels, but an inner voice says, _Come on, you are not surprised. How can you be after what you've just done? _When I see myself in the mirror, pink splotches on pale skin, the remnants of blood splattered and wiped away over and over, my chest begins to heave and I touch the dried blood on my neck and my t-shirt. The thing that sends me over the edge is my eyes. In a previous life, they were green, the layers of my blond hair framing them. Now, though, just like Paul's, my eyes are a bright red, an angry, frightening shade of crimson that only makes my chest heave harder. Am I crying? Where are my tears? Sobs rack me, but, when I catch a glimpse of my companion in the mirror, my body turns back to red, anger spilling over into my leap at Paul. In this body, I am powerful, knocking him to the ground. I am perched on his chest, growls ripping through my throat.

"Vampire? _Is this what you have made me? A monster?"_

"No, my dear, I have made you immortal."


	3. Resistance

I growl at him in disgust and, in the same thought, step off of him, my hands still gripping his clothes. I hold him over my head, as if to throw him. "You may think being immortal is some glorious thing, but most of the world does not agree with you." I throw Paul to my right, where he lands on his back, arching away from the impact of the ground. I start to walk away from him, but I hear him chuckle instead.

"Perhaps your crankiness is just your thirst talking," he says. He's standing again, leaning against a tree, the waning moonlight illuminating his face. I can see that he couldn't have been more than twenty-one when he was changed, his scraggly auburn hair falling around his eyes and over his ears. His attitude to this point has been that of a twenty-one year old, assured in his physical capabilities as well as his place in the world. I remember life being a little more black and white with only subtle hints of grey at that age, my escape from my small-town life nearly complete. I had met my husband by then, my college sweetheart, bound for the classroom, excited to be teaching young minds. He got me excited about working at a library and supported me through graduate school. My still heart constricts as I think about him and our children. What must they be thinking? What did they find? What has my disappearance done to my family?

My reverie takes only seconds, yet feels much longer. The memories are muddy, but they're there at least. I'm afraid to lose them in the overwhelming deluge of information that my new mind is taking in. I become determined not to lose them because my instincts tell me they will be important to me in the long run.

Paul stands by the same tree, but I can see he was busy while I was thinking. By his feet lay two men, obviously unconscious. They lay back to back, their heads hanging, their long hair obscuring most identifying features. I smelled the alcohol and something else, something chemical. "They're out for the count, if you're wondering. Alcohol and – " Paul sniffs, "Heroin, I think. It's been a while since I've had any drug addicts."

Though I smell the chemicals in their blood, I still smell the hot, rich tang of it running beneath their skin. I remembered the hot smell of the blood of the animals I had had earlier, but this smelled even better, as if the bear had been bologna and these guys were filet mignon. Though I've never bitten a human, my mind involuntarily imagines the satisfaction I would gain from sinking my teeth into their soft skin, the flesh giving way beneath my jaws and the precious blood filling my mouth, perhaps slaking my thirst to some extent. I had been fighting with my thirst, trying to stay above it, so that I wouldn't lose my head. Now, though, Paul's two unwitting victims seem to be undermining my control.

"Don't you want a little snack?" he says, shoving them over. Now they lay atop each other, necks exposed, and I wonder if this is a trick. Is Paul trying to get me to feed, to lose my head for a bit so that he has some sort of leverage over me. Though my body is screaming at me to shut the rational part down and _bite already_, my brain refuses to relinquish control. I stand still, in control for the moment.

"I will not be made into a monster."

"How do you have this control over yourself? This is uncommon. How have you not slaughtered up and down this highway yet? Isn't your thirst just consuming you? Doesn't it feel like the fire that created you, rendering you to cinder in your mind, but recreating your body instead? Don't you feel like the phoenix, reborn from ash? Their blood calls to you; it's as natural as venom that wells in your mouth. You are the hunter, the warrior. Your job is to hunt and to kill, to consume. Why are you trying to deny yourself that pleasure?"

His words, they affect me. It's almost sensual. Part of me wonders if it is for him, but that thought is pushed aside by the rational part of me that just refuses to lie down. Paul walks around me as he speaks, his movements almost hypnotic. "Are you trying to break me down?"

"No, I'm trying to show you how it's done. I'm trying to ease you into this life because you certainly haven't had it easy in the last twenty-four hours. Why do you keep denying yourself this essential part of your being?"

"You created me. You made me this way. I didn't ask for this just as I didn't ask for you to seek out this…snack. Like I said, I don't want to be a monster."

"How can you call yourself a monster when all you're doing is being what you are?"

"If being what I am means that I have to kill someone, then maybe I don't need to be that."

Paul stopped walking and looked at me. We held each other's gaze for a second and then he grabbed one of the men on the ground, pulled him vertical, and bit into the man's neck. The man didn't rouse from his chemical stupor, but instead let out an involuntary gasp of surprise and a gurgle as I heard Paul begin to drink. Blood dribbled out of the sides of his mouth – on purpose, no doubt – and my hunting instinct took over. The rational part of my mind disappeared as I flung Paul away, finishing his victim in a couple of swallows and then growling as Paul approached the other victim.

"Mine," I snapped with a guttural snarl, and felt my teeth sink satisfyingly into the buttery flesh.


End file.
